My class was defined by the war in Viet Nam, hippies, sex, drugs and rock and roll. We questioned everything - and every one. Especially authority. We were wild and wildly inspired. We partied hard and studied harder. We were driven to greatness by our need to change the world. And we succeeded. Boy! Did we succeed.
Our class produced engineers, artists, entrepreneurs, nurses, college professors, teachers (ho-boy, were there teachers!), business owners and even an admiral (ret.) in the navy. We've traveled the world and now we're home again. Mostly retired, but still active in the every day business of making this world a better place.
I had an epiphany during this weekend. These people were my friends - had always been my friends. They'd been there for me, even through all the angst of teenage yearnings and fears. They knew me and accepted me for what I was and what I've become. That's one of the good things about attending a small school. You literally know everyone in your class - there is no hiding in a sea of nameless faces, known only to your clique. All your classmates know your good points, and your bad. But it's nice to know that they still liked me even then.
Here's some of the pictures taken during that weekend. Enjoy!
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